I'm a Writer
by KeiMaxwell
Summary: Tweek has never been good with words, until he started writing them down. Rated for language. Implied Creek.


A/N: This is my first try in this fandom. Once again, a random idea that popped out of nowhere. Tweek's POV.

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**I'm a Writer**

I've never been much of a speaker. I stutter, I panic, my words are slurred and people either complain about my loud shrieks or ignore me altogether. It's not that I don't like talking. I'm just not really good at it.

My therapist once suggested I start a diary to reflect on the day's happenings and my feelings, to be able to analyze them or some bullshit. Why would I want to do that? I don't like how most situations make me feel, so how could thinking about them again be good for me? I hated _being _Tweek Tweak most of the time anyway, I didn't want to write about that same shitty existence on top of it as well.

I did, however, pick up the habit of writing, as long as it was about somebody else than me. I wrote about my parents or about the other people in South Park. I also wrote stories about some of the characters of TV shows or movies I've seen. It got to the point where I kept on typing up page after page on my computer or scribbled down random parts in my tattered notebook whereever I was, be it during lessons or in my parent's coffee shop.

It was on one of those days at the coffee shop, while I was sitting in a corner table with Craig, Clyde and Token, that for the first time someone expressed their interest in my writing. Unfortunately, it was Clyde.

"Hey, Tweek, what the hell are you writing in there all the time anyway?"

Before I could even process the question, he had already grabbed a corner of my notebook and was pulling it towards himself.

"Don't- ack! Give it back!" I protested loudly, almost flinging myself over the table. But the whack upside the head that Clyde received was inflicted by Craig.

"If he wants you to read it, he'll show you, dumbass," he admonished and pushed the notebook back to me carefully. I grabbed it, my knuckles turning white from the grip.

I didn't think I could show my writings to people who knew me. Except, maybe, for Craig. I wondered if I could really let him read them, while Clyde and Token bothered their friend with complaints of how they didn't know what to give him for his upcoming birthday.

I thought about what kind of story Craig would like. I knew he liked the color blue, that one was obvious. He also liked Stripe and Red Racer. Chewing my bottom lip in thought, words started whirling around in my head, drawing pictures and scenes before my mind's eye. A minute later, I started writing.

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Nervously I stood on the opposite side of the street facing the school entrance. I held a dark blue envelope delicately in my quivering hands, needing all the inner strength I could muster not to fumble and ruin the unmarred paper.

I was waiting for Craig, wishing he would show up soon and at the same time hoping he wouldn't bother coming today at all. I wanted him to read what I wrote for him and at the same time thought it had been a bad idea to even start thinking of something like that. It was ridiculous. I had ended up writing something about Red Racer, featuring a heroic Stripe, and printed everything neatly on thick, dark blue paper. My mom said a handwritten letter was more personal, and I figured the same applied for a written story. However, I didn't dare give something to Craig in my terrible chicken scratch.

I shifted from one leg to the other while I was waiting, contemplating just running for it. But before I could even start to pace, he turned around the corner at the end of the street, walking towards me slowly. My heart started beating even faster than usually with every step he took. When he stood next to me, he didn't greet me. He never did. However, he looked at the envelope in my hand with mild curiosity.

"A love letter?" he guessed, making me blush against my will.

"WHAT?! NO!" I screeched, earning a stare from Craig. "It's not- It's just- ack!"

My words jumbled yet again, making no sense whatsoever, so I just pushed the envelope into his chest. He seemed to understand, opening the folds carefully and extracting the paper within. His eyebrows rose in a rare show of surprise as his blue eyes swept over the printed words. I couldn't stand watching it anymore and hid my face in my hands. He would surely think it was the biggest shit he ever read. He would hate it. Fuck, he would hate _me_! The thought sent an icy chill down my spine.

"GAH! I-it's stupid, I know! Don't hate me! Just r-rip it up! No, burn it, _burn _it!"

"Tweek."

"Burn i- Huh?"

"Thank you."

I blinked up at him. And blinked again, making sure I saw correctly. Craig was smiling. To everyone else it might have looked like a minuscule upturn of lips, but I knew it was his smile. I felt my own mouth split into a shaky grin. As he threw a casual arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the school, I made an internal resolve to continue writing stories.

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A/N: Fanfiction written by Tweek. Hmm, I'd read that.


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